


For Just One Day Let's Only Think About Love

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Dancing, Friendship, Gen, Team as Family, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Sometimes, even a runaway bride isn't enough to deter a wedding after-party. Set immediately following X-Men Gold #30. Welcome to Rogue and Remy's reception.





	For Just One Day Let's Only Think About Love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And They Whirl And They Twirl And They Tango](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803983) by [Duck_Life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life). 



> Companion to my story about Jean and Scott's wedding, "And They Whirl And They Twirl And They Tango."

                                     

 

When Rachel sees Nate milling around awkwardly by the wedding cake, she lopes over to nudge him in the side. “Hey bro,” she says, beaming up at him. “What happened? Did your date ditch you?” She snickers. “And by your date I mean _Mom_.”

Nathan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I always feel uncomfortable at these things. Time-displaced X-Men should really form some kind of support group.”

“They did. It’s called X-Men Blue,” she jokes, sipping her champagne. “How are things with you and Mom, anyway? You talk to her about what you’ve been up to?” Rachel, for the most part, has been giving her mother the most palatable rundown she can of everything she’s been through in the last decade… and she’s been trying to steer clear of the whole “I’m dating one of your oldest friends” thing. The Kurt talk doesn’t need to happen soon, or at all.

“We’ve… talked,” Nathan says evasively, still scanning the room vaguely like he’s looking for an escape. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Even at a mutant wedding, you can feel like an outcast when you come from a different time. When you know things that everyone else can never know. “We talk about Hope a lot, actually. So that’s nice.”

Hope. Jean. The Phoenix. The Hound. On a night when she was _supposed_ to watch two of her dearest friends get married, and ended up watching two also-good friends get married, Rachel doesn’t want to think about catastrophes and superheroes and time travel. She just wants to think about simple stuff. Love. Laughter. Pigs in a blanket. “Did you tell Mom about your boyfriend?”

To her amazement, Nathan’s cheeks flush red. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Rachel laughs and tugs him toward the bar by his elbow. “C’mon, let’s get another drink.”

* * *

 

Bobby straightens his tie, checks his watch, and straightens his tie again like anything’s changed in the past two seconds. He can do this. He can do this, really, he can. And damn, Bishop looks so good in that tux.

Nervous and still not sure how he looks, Bobby spins around and grabs Bling! by the shoulders. “Roxy! Hey, how's it going?” he says, trying to sound casual.

Roxy shrugs, looking dashing in her tuxedo. “Dancing. Drinking. Wedding stuff.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says, staring somewhere in the middle of her forehead.

“Cessily and I have a bet going over whether Kitty’s a lesb— are you trying to use me as a mirror?” she snaps.

Bobby runs a hand through his hair sheepishly and checks his reflection again in her diamond exterior. “You're just so shiny.”

“You look fine,” Roxy promises, watching his eyes travel to Bishop across the room. “You look _great_ , Popsicle. Go get him.” And she shoves him onto the dance floor.

Bobby crosses the room to the table where Bishop sips champagne from a flute that looks comically small in his hand. After way too much throat clearing, Bobby finally says, “Hey, Lucas.”

Bishop looks bemused. “Hi… Robert.”

Bobby feels ridiculous. He shouldn’t have walked over here. He shouldn’t have tried anything. He’s starting to wish he could just melt into a puddle on the floor. “Um, so… look, this year’s been… I mean… okay, okay. What I’ve learned is that when I get myself together and stop being so scared, good things can happen. So that’s what I’m doing now. I’m shooting my shot. Bishop… do you maybe want to dance?”

Bishop sets his champagne down and smiles. “Bobby Drake, I thought you’d never ask.”

And then, in one fluid motion, Bishop stands up and takes his hand, then leads him back onto the dance floor. He puts the hand not already holding Bobby’s hand on his waist, and then they’re dancing. For as tall and as dangerous as he is, people often forget how gentle Bishop can be.

Dancing with him makes Bobby feel safe.

“You know, Drake,” Bishop says as they slide across the floor, “Charles Xavier gave my some advice.”

“Before he died?”

“After he died,” Bishop says, and then frowns. “I’ve had a really weird week.”

Bobby sighs. “Tell me about it.”

Bishop, not immediately picking up on the sarcasm, does. “Well it started with Psylocke getting captured by the Shadow King in London—”

“N-no,” Bobby stops him, grinning ear to ear. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… uh, what was the advice? That Xavier gave you from beyond the grave?”

Bishop sways with him back and forth. Bobby’s always had so much nervous energy radiating off of him. Maybe that’s why he likes the idea of a man who can convert harmful energy into something useful, something good. “He told me that I could stop worrying so much about saving the world,” Bishop says, drawing closer to Bobby, shrinking the space between them, “and instead, start living in it.”

“Oh,” Bobby says. “Are you going to?”

Bishop smiles. “Yes,” he says. “I think so.”

* * *

 

Hank shakes his head watching Laura Kinney and her little sister Gabby grabbing as many cupcakes from the dessert table as they can and scurrying away with them. When he turns around, he spots Jubilee leaning against the wall holding Shogo.

“Why, Jubilation,” Hank says, greeting her and her son with a sweeping bow. “Might this young man be your date for the evening?”

“You got it, old man,” Jubilee says, scooping Shogo up higher so he can look Hank in the eye. “Say hi to Uncle Hank, kiddo.”

Shogo giggles and waves. Hank gives him a little high-five, his blue paw absolutely swallowing up the little boy’s hand. “I hope you two are enjoying yourselves?”

Jubilee bites her lip. (It’s nice to be able to do that without worrying about fangs.) “I’m not sure if I’m s’posed to,” she admits. “That’s what I’m not super sure about, y’know? I don’t know what the waiting period is before I can stop being kinda sad about Kitty and Pete and start being really happy about Rogue and Remy.”

“Hm,” Hank says. “Quite a conundrum.” He glances across the reception hall, takes note of Piotr sitting at a table speaking with Illyana, of Kitty sitting at the bar talking to Brian and Meggan. He looks at Rogue and Remy, shoving wedding cake into each other’s faces and falling over laughing. “You know well enough that we’ve seen our share of real tragedy. And I admit, the Kitty-and-Colossus predicament is in fact troubling. But we’re all alive, we’re all here. There’s music, there’s food and Quentin Quire hasn’t managed to make a scene yet. I say we celebrate.”

Jubilee cocks her head back to look at him. “Yeah. Yeah I think you’re right, Hankster,” she says. She thrusts Shogo into his arms. “You mind babysitting for a couple songs? I’m gonna go celebrate.”

She kicks her shoes off before she reaches the dance floor, and then she starts sending a couple fireworks off as she shakes and shimmies. Hank smiles watching her fall into a circle of Chamber, Monet and Paige.

“Hank!” Shogo whines, hands tangling in his fur.

“Hey there,” Hank says, sliding into a chair and letting Shogo stand up on his legs. “Alright, you wanna practice some more while your mother’s busy? Say it with me now… _Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium_ …”

* * *

 

Kitty feels like she’s in a bad movie. Somehow she’s sitting here, at the reception to what was supposed to be her wedding. Usually, she thinks, when the bride leaves the groom at the altar, she doesn’t swing back around for cake and champagne.

At least she was able to swipe a party dress from Rachel. Being here in her wedding dress would’ve made this incredibly unfunny joke even worse.

Kurt slides into the seat beside her at the bar. “Moscow mule, _bitte_.”

Kitty pushes herself up from her pint glass of red wine to stare at him. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“ _Nein_ . If it was a joke, I would’ve gotten a White Russian.” The bartender hands him his drink in a copper mug, and he smiles, showing off his fangs. “ _Danke_.”

“You don’t have to sit here,” Kitty assures him, debating on whether to just sink into the floor. Although she doesn’t want to make a habit out of that. “You don’t… I mean, I get it. You were his friend first.”

“I’m not picking sides.” She raises an eyebrow, like she’s not believing it. “ _Katzchen_ , really. You’re both my friends. Yes, he and I fought together as X-Men first, but you and I fought together on Excalibur.”

“Are you mad at me?” Kitty blurts, immediately feeling ridiculous. She expects Piotr to be mad at her. She even expects her mother to be mad at her. But she’s gotten herself into this tangled up mess where she _hates_ the thought of Illyana being mad at her and she _hates_ the thought of Kurt or Ororo being mad at her, even though it feels inevitable.

Kurt puts a hand on her shoulder gently so he can turn her and look her in the eyes. “No,” he says. “Ororo said something tonight that made a lot of sense to me. She said that it was better it happen now than years down the road.”

Kitty nods and puts her hand over his hand. “Thank you,” she says. Standing up there under the wedding arch, seeing everyone’s eyes on her… it had made her realize that she was doing all this more for those people watching than for herself. And she panicked. And she ran. “Thanks for being my friend, Kurt.”

Kurt smiles. “Thank you for being mine, Kitty Pryde.”

* * *

 

Rogue’s never in her life seen Remy this happy. Not when they used to tease each other during X-Men baseball games and X-Men picnics. Not even when they were psychically manipulated to be happy on that therapy retreat island. No, this is some new level. He’s practically buzzing, and not just from kinetic energy.

And she feels exactly the same way.

“I always knew you were a good thief,” Rogue says, swaying against him as the band plays. They’re dancing out in the middle of the floor, but it’s less dancing and more jumping around together in various states of utter joy. “But this… this is something else, swamp rat. You stole a _wedding_.”

“Best heist of the century, _non_ ?” he says, smirking. He remembers getting dressed that morning, how his fingers had danced across the skin of her back as he zipped up her dress. If he could go back in time and tell the Remy from this morning that he’d be married to her by nightfall… It’s a feeling that makes his heart soar. “I’ll get you a ring, too. Beautiful ring. I’ll steal you somethin’ nice, _chère_.”

“You know how little girls dream about their wedding days?” Rogue says, ignoring his promise to steal a ring for her. (He’ll probably do it and she’ll probably love it. He knows what she likes.) “I never did. Nightmares, sometimes, after the whole Cody thing… but never daydreamed about my wedding day. Never pictured it.” She smiles. “I think if I ever did, though, it probably would have been just like this. Spontaneous. Beautiful. Perfect.” Remy kisses her, only stopping when he starts to feel woozy. “Careful, Cajun,” she says, smiling at him. Her husband. It’s almost hard to believe. “Hey, you know what though? I’m supposed to have something blue and something new, etcetera etcetera, right?”

“I gotcha, _ma colombe_ ,” he promises, swiveling her around. “Something old,” he says, dancing post Jean Grey, “something new,” he says, twirling her past Teen Jean Grey, “something borrowed,” he says, “heh. We borrowed the whole wedding. Aaaand…” He dips her so she can tip her head back and see Hank, still entertaining Jubilee’s son. “Something blue!”

“Like I said,” Rogue says, “perfect.” She kisses him again.

* * *

 

“... so now I can transition from Archangel to Angel but I have control over both power sets and appearances,” Warren says. “I gotta say, it’s really cool, finally regaining control of my identity and my wings after so long.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ororo nods, finding it kind of hard to feign interest after the last twenty minutes. She cares about Warren— really, she does. But it feels like she’s been hearing this same story since the eighties.

Stevie pops up behind her carrying a fun, fruity drink. “Hey, Roro. Oh, hi Warren! How’ve you bee—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Ororo warns lowly. “Warren, you remember Stevie Hunter?”

“Of course,” Warren says, taking Steven’s hand and kissing it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Stevie raises her eyebrows and Ororo just shrugs. “Shame about Kitty and Peter. I really thought those two kids were going to make it.”

“Maybe they still will,” Ororo says, not really sounding like she believes that. “Or maybe they were never meant to. I think the important thing is, Kitty realized what she wanted now and not years from now.”

“No, no, the _real_ important thing is that all y’all are here together,” Stevie points out, gesturing around the room. “I mean, seriously, when was the last time all the X-Men were in a room together and the frickin’ _Phoenix_ wasn’t involved?”

Ororo smiles. “You’re right,” she says, looking out at her friends and family. “You’re absolutely right.”

* * *

 

“Hey girl,” Jean says, collapsing into a chair next to Betsy. “Mind if I hang here for a second? I needed to get away from… well, me.”

“Ah, yeah. The X-Babies,” she nods sagely, downing her champagne in one fell swoop. “Believe me, you’re lucky you were hanging with Baby You and not Baby Scott. I can’t tell you how awkward it is interacting with Baby Warren. It’s like… like looking at your ex-boyfriend’s high school yearbook come to life.”

“Mm,” Jean nods, looking around the room. She sees her old friends mixed in with people she’s just met, people she’s getting a chance to know now. Old friends like Rictor and Guido alongside students and teammates she’s just getting to know. “Hey, Betsy?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re still friends, right?”

Betsy gives her a funny look. “Of course, Jean. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Just… just I was dead for awhile. And then I come back and everyone keeps telling me about Schism-this and Avengers-that and it feels like stuff just kept repeatedly falling apart. I just… I wanted to know that you and I were okay,” Jean says in a rush.

Betsy pulls Jean into a hug, squeezing her tight. “Yes,” she promises. “Yes, we’re still friends. I couldn’t have a falling out with a dead woman, anyway, I’m not _that_ dramatic.”

Jean laughs. “There’s so many people I want to connect with,” she admits. “Not telepathically, you know, I just want to _talk_ to them, see them.”

“You got a phone?”

Jean blinks. “Uh, I had one. Before I died. I don’t know what happened to it.”

“My God, you’ve been back to life for ages though,” Betsy says, looking aghast. “Look— get a phone.”

“A cellular phone?”

“Jesus Christ you’ve really been out of it,” Betsy sighs. “Go get a phone. No flip phones. Nothing that can fold in half. Just— just take one of the teenagers with you. But not one of the teenagers from the sixties. And pick out a phone.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll exchange numbers and I’ll text you every day,” Betsy says, smiling. “I’ll even teach you how to use Snapchat.”

She frowns. “That’s not a dating app, is it?”

“No, but we’ll do that next,” Betsy swears. “Gonna get you back into the world, Jean Grey.”

“I appreciate that,” Jean says delicately. “But— aw, hell, forget it. I just appreciate that.”

She sits beside her friend and watches generations and generations of mutants dance together, talk together, eat together, celebrate together. This is it, she thinks.

This is life.

She’s glad to be a part of it again.


End file.
